


True Meaning of Fear

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of A Song of Ice and Fire Drabbles [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fear, Hearing Torture of Others, Pregnancy, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: Reader is scared that one day, she will be the subject of Ramsay's torture.Originally posted on my Tumblr: DaenerysKhalasar





	True Meaning of Fear

As the water steamed around you, you were lost in your thoughts. Your maidservant, Lona, was busy scrubbing at your arms, and when the sound of your husband’s latest treasure began to scream, the sponge fell into the water.

“Begging your forgiveness, my Lady,” Lona spoke quickly, grabbing the sponge and resuming. Your gaze lifted at the sound of the screams, and you barely even noticed Lona’s mistake. But you didn’t really care. It continued, and the more of your skin she would clean, the more the screams would carry.

“How can you sit by, and know what he does?” The new servant whispered, terrified as the screams reached a new octave. Even you faltered at the sound, as you often did. “How can you love him, knowing what he does?”

You glanced to the girl sharply, and observed her. She met your gaze for only a second, before she dropped it with a muttered apology and began on your arm. She was not even a woman yet, you could tell by the youthful fat that still clung to her cheeks. Her childlike innocence would not last long here, you knew. It had not for you. “Because that person is not me.”

And you could not explain it. You could not explain to this young girl how every moment he left your bed chamber was filled with fear - fear he would find another woman, prettier than you. Fear that a man would leer about you, and he would take their word over your own. Fear that he would lose interest with you - and you would be the next person strung up and screaming in anguish at the pain he inflicted on you.

He never asked you to watch what he did. He never spoke to you more than a few off-handed comments about what he was doing. Perhaps he knew you enough that you could not stomach the sight of peeled skin and missing appendages. You had heard of what he had done to his own attendant, Reek, from the whispers of those that would clean up the room in which he played.

Just thinking of the poor man now had you nearly empty your stomach.

You did not know what would set him off, and turn him against you.

You loved him, desperately. You had loved him since you were children, and you were his father’s ward, high born enough when your parents died to be given to a Lord’s home. And while Roose had raised you well, you knew he raised his bastard, now legitimate, son an entirely different way. But not even high-born blood would protect you. It had not for Theon Greyjoy, who now followed your husband’s every beck and call.

You loved Ramsay more than you could ever explain. More than you needed to explain. As long as Ramsay knew your love was true, then nothing else mattered.

Nothing else except for the life that was growing inside of you, threatening to throw everything off balance. The screams grew even louder, despite being far from your chambers. You could only imagine what it was like in that room - a place you never, ever wanted to be. A place Ramsay knew you did not wish to ever be. And he respected that - for some reason he never asked you to partake in the activities. For some reason, he liked to keep you separate from that life.

“My Lady?”

You glanced up at the maidservant, and let out a shaking breath, but gave her a small smile to tell her you were alright. “If you could fetch me a glass of water, I would appreciate it, Lona.”

Lona gave a quick nod, and scurried out of the room. Alone, for the first time since the screaming had begun, you let out a slow and steady breath and gently placed your hand upon your stomach. You did not know what you’d do if your own child turned out to enjoy the very things their father did for sport.

You glanced up abruptly as the door was kicked open, and Ramsay was striding it, not caring if the door didn’t close behind him. His eyes found you in the tub, and he gave you a grin in greeting.

“You’re in an agreeable mood, my love” you observed warmly.

As he always did, he disarmed himself of any and all weapons he had on him at the door, something you had requested so that in your moments of sometimes random passion, you would not hurt yourself on accident. It had happened once, near the beginning of your marriage, where unfastening his coat had cut your palm on a dagger he had in the inside pocket.

He moved towards the tub once it was done, and hummed in appreciation as he took in your body in the water. “I’m always in an agreeable mood when I see you like this.” He held a hand out to you, and you rose carefully out of the bath, surprised when he handed you some linen to dry off. “Come, I want to show you something.”

“It’ll only take a moment for me to dress.”

He hummed, moving back to the bed, laying back on it and watching you as you moved towards your trunk. You glanced back to him, chewing on your lip to hide your smile. “Are you just going to watch me?”

“Happily, as well.” You rolled your eyes, but threw a shift over your head and then reached for your corset. He spoke suddenly. “Have you gained weight?” You paused, still in the process of threading the laces, and glanced back to him abruptly, your heart hammering. Taking in your alarmed expression, he quickly continued, as if to placate you. “When you dress, you were always able to slip the corset on mostly laced. You took them out to get it on, and still had some difficulty.”

Curse him for being so observant. You were barely showing, but your gowns did not agree with the weight, nor did your breasts and everything else that was changing. “It’s… “ You swallowed, and set the laces down, before moving towards him on the bed. He was still lounging back, his hands under his head, head cocked to look at you, and merely raised an eyebrow in question as you sat down by his feet. You had to say it now, otherwise you knew he would be angry if he found out later. “I’m pregnant.”

He didn’t react, not for a few seconds, and you stared at him nervously. You spoke quickly the longer he stared at you. “I… I was going to tell you sooner, but it’s so touch and go the first few months, that I wanted to be sure.”

“How far along?”

“A few months. My bleedings stopped two months ago, just after the feast we had.” He knew the one. “I didn’t even notice, myself, with how busy we’ve been. But Lona was the first to bring it to my attention.”

“Lona,” he said carefully, as if trying to place the name. “Your maidservant?”

You nodded carefully.

“Hmmm…” And slowly a grin stretched out on his face. “Well Lona is going to get a very nice gift, won’t she?” You didn’t want to know what that meant. She was a nice girl, a kind girl, that you trusted greatly. “This is wonderful news.”

“It is?” The question in your voice was subtly, but he did not seem to notice. “I… I was unsure of if you wanted children. You’ve never made mention before-”

Ramsay sat up, and his thumb brushed against your cheek, a soft sigh leaving him. “If they all are as perfect as you, I want as many as you can give me.” You gave him a warm smile, relieved. “I’ll send for a midwife to start attending you. And a seamstress, perhaps.”

You laughed quietly. “It’s true. I’ll be unbearably large.”

He hummed. “I think I can bear it.” He stood from the bed, pulling you with him, and his fingers began to expertly lace the corset. Usually, he was the one pulling it off. And as he began to pull them tighter, you noticed that he was not being firm, at all. In fact, it was the gentlest he had ever been with you.

“My gown will never fit if you don’t pull it tighter,” you warned.

“I do not want to harm you or the child,” Ramsay murmured from behind you. Oh. That was … incredibly sweet of him. “Do you have a heavy cloak?”

“By the fire-”

“I think wearing that instead of the gown will do. We won’t be out long.” He finished off the corset, and it was strange, wearing it and still being able to breathe. “And I don’t want anyone to see my lady improperly dressed. That’s only for my eyes.” The threat for anyone that did see you was clear enough. And yet, you relaxed slightly.

“What is it you’re showing me?” You asked as he strode towards where your cloak was laying. As he pulled it over you, securing it shut with a silk sash, he hummed as he looked you over.

“Something I think you’ll like.” And he took your head, kissing it so lightly that you almost didn’t feel it. “This will be a good thing for us, Y/N.” You gave him a small smile, to convey that you hoped so. “Our own family. We must tell my father, soon.” Roose.

“Of course.” And he tugged your arms gently, leading you out the door and past a disheveled Lona with your glass of water.

“My Lord. My Lady… I’ll set your water on your table, my Lady,” Lona spoke as you passed, her gaze dropped to the glass on the tray.

“Thank you, Lona.” And you gave a giggle as Ramsay tugged you a tad impatiently, so that you nearly crashed into him. “Careful. I’m still barefoot and the stones are cold.” He merely put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer so that you could get some warmth to make up for your frozen feet. As he led you towards the balcony that overlooked the field, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest. “Are we going to see the sunset?”

“You’ll ruin the surprise.” But the grin that lit Ramsay’s face told you the answer. He was good to you, even if he wasn’t to everyone else.


End file.
